Her pouty mouth is pressed into a thin line and her skin is almost translucent beneath the lights in the bedroom. The prominent bones of her collar and ribs protrude from her skin like sharp edges.
“Get out!” I bark at the men that followed me in and all but Ryker leave, clicking the door closed.
“Kingston Heart is downstairs, Lex,” he warns.
“Do I look like I give a shit?”
“Lex,” Ryker starts.
“Get the fuck out!”
Ryker stops in his tracks as he makes his way towards me and Wren. Panic has started to crawl through my body, it makes my scalp tingle, my palms sweat.
This much emotion I can’t control. “GET OUT!”
“Lex,” Ryker tries again, fucking pushing, always fucking pushing.
A loud crash echoes through the house which distracts us for a moment, “I’ll deal with it.”
My nostrils flare, “you do that.”
When I’m finally alone, when silence settles like a heavy weight around me, I sit on the bed, pulling my broken bird into me, resting her head in my lap, smoothing back the hair from her face.
“You left me little bird,” I whisper, “you fucking left me.”
Her lips part and her lashes flutter but she doesn’t open her eyes.
“I’m going to make him pay for this, mark my words little bird, you’ll be standing at my side whilst we watch his heart beat in my fist. I’ll make it rain, little bird. For you. Always for you.”
“Lex,” her voice is as soft as a summer breeze, “Alexander.”
“I’m here.”
A small whimper escapes her lips as her body shivers against me and a single tear slips out the corner of her eye, rolling down the side of her face to disappear into her copper hairline. Her breathing is still too shallow, her breaths slow.
I hate seeing her like this. No fight. No strength. As much as I fucking loathed her attitude and her push, I wished for it now. I needed her venom if only to teach her a lesson, I needed her fight and her strength if only to prove I’d always own her, always have her.
I wanted to both devour and soothe her broken frame, to love her and worship her whilst I claimed her. Made her mine.
I’d ensure the whole fucking world knew she belonged to a Silver and fucking with her was fucking with an army bigger, better and stronger than any of our enemies.
I’d make her a Silver, have her at my side, a crown atop her head and make them all bow down. They’ll bend the knee and kiss her feet like she fucking deserved.
The doctor arrives seven minutes after the threat, sweating, his eyes wide with fear, his equipment tugged in behind him by the nurses he’s no doubt managed to blackmail onto his payroll.
Doctor Gerald Whitmore was a seedy old man but a good doctor, he’s patched me up many a time and I had no doubt Wren was in capable hands.
“Mr Silver,” he greets, swallowing nervously.
“Fix it.”
“You know that is not how this works, Mr Silver,” he steps towards us and instinctively, I bend, covering my woman, baring my teeth like a fucking animal.
“You’ll need to let him at her,” a strong English accent says from the door.
“Heart,” I growl.
“In the flesh,” his arms stretch out at his sides, palms facing towards the ceiling, “She took a beating Silver, you want her to live, the good doctor is gonna need to see her.”